Page 4 of Dad Bod's Naughty List

“I… I don’t know what you are talking about.”

It’s Agnes who responds this time. “You’ve been glaring at those girls staring at your man. Hey, if I were you, I wouldn’t be worried. That man hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we stepped out of the gates.”

That’s because he is paid to keep his eyes on me, is what I want to say but I push it down.

Orlando Battista is my bodyguard. That line has been blurring a lot lately, but the truth remains that he is getting paid to protect me.

He is not mine. Those girls can ogle him all they want.

I push back the bile that climbs up my throat and flash my friends a smile. "I need to go girls," I tell them. "I don't want to keep him waiting much longer. I'll text you later."

“You better,” Alexa says returning my smile. “Enjoy Christmas with your sugar daddy.”

I blush, waving at the girls as I walk away from them and toward my bodyguard. He doesn't take his eyes off me as I approach him and my heartbeat thumps louder with every distance I cover between us.

God, he’s perfect. With his black and silver hair neatly styled back with slight waves to it. Orlando is easily the most good-looking man I have ever seen. His face is well defined with strong cheekbones and a chiseled jawline that is carved to perfection. He keeps his beard short, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve wanted to reach out and comb my fingers through it to see if it feels as soft as it looks.

My heart is practically thumping when I stop in front of the taller man. A shudder rolls down my back the longer his gaze stays on me. I don’t care that he is paid to keep his eyes on me. Only that I am the only girl he’s looking at.

“Aria…”

He’s saying something to me. I can see his mouth moving when I step up to him and I know he’s saying words that I need to pay attention to, but my mind is focused on that single word. The way he calls my name, his voice rich and smooth. So deep it sends the spot between my thighs pulsing with familiar need.

“Arianna!”

“Huh?” I blink at the man, my cheeks crimson when I realize I haven’t heard a word he’s said. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Do you want me to make any stops before I drive you home?”

"Home," I repeat with a sigh, looking away. Can he even consider that fortress a home? It's a house, but it lacks the warmth of a home. Cold even with people living in it. My oldest brother, Fabian, doesn't get along with our father or even with Nico, our stepbrother. They are all constantly fighting with each other over one thing or the other and I am not eager to get back to that. And to think that's what I have to look forward to all holiday. "I don't want to go home just yet."

“Then where do you want to go?”

I look up, sucking in a sharp breath when I notice how much closer to me Orlando has moved. He's so close I can smell his rich wood and musk aftershave. For a full minute, I forget how to breathe, and my brain turns to mash.

He’s all I can see.All I can feel.

“The gallery,” I manage in a breathy tone. “I want to go to the art gallery.”

“Okay, I’ll take you there.”

Orlando finally pushes back, giving me space to breathe and I fight back the need to gulp on air. He opens the car door for me and I climb in, offering much-needed reprieve to my trembling knees.

I sit still as he walks around to the driver’s side and stare ahead, pretending I’m not pulsing behind my panties.

It would be so easy for him to place his hand on my thigh and trail it up my pleated skirt. I would let him, too. Part my legs for that large heavy hand climbing up between my legs and to the spot between my legs. He’d feel it, the wetness spread there and then he’d know…

Orlando would know just how wet I am for him.

Maybe he already knows that I see him as more than just my bodyguard. If that's the case, then he gives no indication and doesn't give in to my fantasy. No, those massive hands stay on the steering wheel as he pulls out of the curb.

It’s been this way all year. Silence in the car as we both pretend there isn’t any chemistry sparking between us. He’s heard my little breathy sighs. I know he has. He has to have noticed the fact that I wear my skirts way too short so they can ride up my thighs when I sit.

Unless…

“No way,” I mutter under my breath when the thought of Orlando having a lover crash into my fantasies.

“Did you say something?”

---